Into the Casms of Dark Matter

Why lie when the truth doesn’t matter? Why speak when words are just pitta patter? Nothing of sense makes sense anymore We crave speed but is it really just time moving faster? Every day, every hour do we scare at being relaxed in the clatter? Release the mind to the casms of dark matter Is this where the soul can truly relax? Burn them down, work them hard, cast aside then remove to the scrapper A unit here, a unit there - what’s to care? It really doesn’t matter When truth falls from grace where do we stand in life’s chatter? Is it real? Is it fake? Or is the point of this life the simple fact that it all just does not matter?